


Thunderbolts and Lightning, Very Very Frightening,

by MurdockSchmurdock



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Airplanes, Among Us, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Chapter Art, Childhood Trauma, Cold Weather, Cover Art, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mentor/Protégé, Michelle Jones Is a Good Bro, Minor Original Character(s), Ned Leeds is a Little Shit, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker has PTSD, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Storms, Thunder and Lightning, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, but out of it, but super super minor, happy hogan is completely out of it for this one, he's there of course, like seriously, not even sure it technically counts but tagging just in case, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurdockSchmurdock/pseuds/MurdockSchmurdock
Summary: Peter Parker does not have a great history with planes.Maybe he should have considered the ramifications of that before he agreed to go with Tony on a business trip to LA.Well, at least it's an *actual* business trip this time.Featuring some bad jokes, even worse memories, and more Pringles than anyone, enhanced genes or not, should be able to eat in 13 hours.Oh, and the trio have a discord server. Thought you should know about that.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Happy Hogan & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 19
Kudos: 97





	1. *hands you a Pringle* It's dirt flavored.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. I haven't even technically finished this one, but I got this chapter's art done and just wanted to get something up. I'm not dead, yet.  
> I'll put some TWs at the beginning of chapters that heavily feature panic attacks and the like, just so you know.

The first time Peter Parker ever flew in a plane, he was far too excited- and loud, in Happy’s opinion- to notice the faint buzz of his spidey senses underlying every thought.

The second time he ever flew in a plane, the low drone of the engines lulled his exhausted body to sleep, dreaming of soldiers and sorcerers and giant men. He couldn’t see the roiling ocean as they passed over it, and only Happy noticed how the boy’s shoulders would tense as the turbulent ocean winds caused the cabin to shudder.

The third time probably couldn’t be considered a flight, though he was *technically* on a plane. Either way, it wasn’t very pleasant, and he would rather not think of it right now. Especially since Mr. Stark was here, and he probably didn’t even know exactly what happened that night in the first place.

Peter had another experience with planes, but that was a very long time ago and he wasn’t even there for it. Luckily. But that was just another thing not to think about. Certainly not as he stood rigidly on the tarmac besides his mentor, bracing himself against the wind as they watched the slate grey jet taxi in from the runway.

“You know, this might be the first time you were ever early for a flight, Tony.” Happy said as he slammed the trunk of the SUV. 

Peter snorted at the comment, and was rewarded with a flick to the head from his mentor.

“Don’t laugh at that, you little shit,” The genius said indignantly, “First of all, it’s my plane, it should wait for me. Second, crosswinds were too strong on landing, so Tim had to do another pass.”

Happy rolled his eyes, but made no further remarks.

“If the wind is that bad, should we even be flying?” Peter asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes for what seemed to be the hundredth time. As soon as he moved his hand away an errant gust pushed his curls right back. He huffed and didn’t try again.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, kid. I’ve flown in worse.” Tony shrugged. 

The teen nodded, but he couldn’t help glancing behind them to the darkness building in the already grey sky. A familiar shiver ran down his back, and Peter burrowed deeper into his hoodie, not that it helped. Stupid spider-genes.

* * *

* * *

By the time the jet pulled to a stop and the flight crew lowered the air stairs, Peter had managed to choke down the unease he had been feeling since that morning. He should be excited, after all. Not very many interns got to accompany The Tony Stark on a business trip! An actual one, at that.

“Do you need any help with the luggage, Happy?” He asked the man currently sticking little red tags on each suitcase.

“Nah, you go on ahead, Peter. I’m not sure if that would count as child labor. Can’t be too careful these days.” He replied, grunting as he rose to his feet. Peter looked dubiously between him and the rather large pile of bags. 

“Whatever you say, Happy.”

“Get outta here, kid, Tony’s waiting on you.” Happy said, shooing the teen off with a roll of his eyes.

Sure enough, the genius was waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

“What do you think, Underoos?” He asked as Peter bounded up the steps.

“It’s super cool!” Peter replied, “It’s smaller than the one from Leipzig, but personal jets usually are, right? Did you make it?”

Tony smirked at the barrage of questions, and patted the shimmery side of the jet.

“Nope, I didn’t make it, but I did have a hand in the design and some of the tech. And yeah, I wanted it smaller, to be a bit less… recognizable, at least for more sensitive stuff.”

“Makes sense, makes sense,” Peter nodded, wrinkling his nose as another gust of wind blew against them, “Can we go in now?”

“Oh, so now you’re excited?” the man snorted, ruffling Peter’s hair before placing his palm on the plane. The metal glowed gently under his touch, and the door hatch slid open with a click. 

“Hey! I was excited! I probably just overreacted a bit.” Peter whined.

“Well come on, then! Tony said, “go ahead and sit down, I’ve gotta talk to Tim for a sec, then I’ll join you.” He promptly disappeared into a door on the left that Peter assumed was the cockpit. It was a solid guess, as long as Tim was the pilot, as he had also assumed. 

He stepped nervously over the threshold, sighing as the much warmer air washed over him. Much better. A burst of laughter, the kind adults do when someone says something that is only funny to anyone over the age of thirty-five, came from his left, muted even to his enhanced senses. The soundproofing was pretty good, but not as impervious as in the Tower, but Peter resisted the urge to listen in. That was rude, and Peter Parker was anything but rude. Instead, he made his way into the fuselage.

“Whoa.” He breathed as he walked into the space, which was better described as a room than a plane’s cabin. The front was open and fairly spacious, with soft tawny carpeting, a luxurious wooden kitchenette complete with mini bar, a small table, and a large TV. The back end was more reminiscent of a normal plane, with two rows of double seats lining the sides. Each was upholstered in fine cream leather, and Peter couldn’t wait to find out what the panel of buttons on the armrests were for. 

He pulled off his hoodie and tossed it on to one of the seats. Sitting down could wait, it’d been a few hours since his last meal, and something told him those cabinets weren’t empty. Peter slipped behind the bar and opened the first one. Bingo. 

“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” Tony chuckled. Peter yelped in surprise and dropped the three Pringles cans he’d been holding, one of which popped open, spilling salted chips across the floor.

“Oh, shoot, sorry! I guess I should’ve asked.” He said guiltily. 

“No, it’s all good, kid, I was just joking. Didn’t mean to scare you,” Tony shrugged, then looked at the brand new mess on the floor. “Good thing there’s still two cans.”

“Three if you value the five second rule.” Peter replied, and started shoving the chips back into the tube. 

“I...kid, no.” His mentor groaned, and grabbed a small broom and dustpan from under the sink. 

“Really, Mr. Stark, I got it.”

“Ach, stop it,” Tony chided, whacking the teen’s hands with the bristles as he continued fumbling for the chips, “If you’re gonna pick them up, use this. And please don’t eat them. At least not in front of me, anyway.”

Peter rolled his eyes but obliged, sweeping up the remaining crumbs and dumping them into a trash bag his mentor provided. 

“Alright, now that that’s sorted, I gotta know. Do you like it?” Tony asked, grabbing something for himself from the kitchenette.

“Yeah! It’s a lot fancier than I thought it would be,” Peter said enthusiastically, flopping down into the seat where he had left his sweatshirt, “Though I guess I should have expected that. Wow, these are so comfy!”

The man grinned and followed him, stopping to set his own bag of chips on the row in front of Peter.

“Well, you’re gonna love this.” He said, and tapped one of the armrest buttons. Immediately, the seat slid forward, and turned a neat 180 to face Peter.

“Sick!” The teen exclaimed, kicking his feet up on the now-backwards chair. 

“Yeah, no,” Tony said, and kicked Peter’s legs back onto the ground, to much protest, ”I’m sitting here, so no footrest for the spiderling, got it?”

“Well, I could just-” Peter said, mischievously lifting his sneaker up to the leather.

“You could, if you want me to go sit back there.” His mentor retorted, gesturing to the very back of the plane. Peter shook his head vehemently.

“No! I’d rather you stay up here. If, uh, that’s fine with you.” He said. Tony squinted at him.

“Are you really alright?” he asked, “I know I ragged on you a bit earlier, but if you’re worried you can let me know.”

“I’m fine, honest! I just… I don't want to get so bored. That’s all.” Peter reassured. 

“Okay, kid. I wasn’t going to leave, anyway. I’m just as susceptible to boredom as you.” Tony winked, sat down on the seat no longer occupied by Peter’s sneakers, and pressed another button, prompting a small holo-screen to appear over the armrest.

“So, is there anything they can’t do?” Peter challenged.

* * *

It took about seven minutes for Tony to cover the heating, cooling, reclining, screen tech, cupholder, and swiveling functions, and an additional five for Peter to start getting restless.

“Mr. Stark? When are we leaving?” 

The man glanced out the window towards the back of the plane.

“Probably soon, since they’ve stopped loading luggage. Once Happy’s on, we’ll get moving,” He mused, “ So I should probably turn around.” 

“Why? I thought you were gonna talk to me.” Peter huffed. 

“Just for take-off and landing, kid. Tim’s rules.” Tony replied.

“O-oh. That makes sense.” Peter mumbled, face flushing as Tony hit the button and swiveled away. Ugh, stupid question.

“Yeah, sorry, usually Tim would let me do whatever I want, but well, Tim’s here.” The genius shrugged. 

“Uh, what?” the teen puzzled, "Is Tim-uh,Tim’s the pilot, right?”

“Well yes, Tim’s the pilot.” Tony answered, “And Tim is the Co-Pilot.” 

“So there’s...one Tim?” 

“Nope.”

“Two Tims?”

“Yeah, Maybe.” Peter shook his head.

“Both the pilot and copilot are named Tim? Is there a reason?” He asked. Tony just shrugged again.

“Nope. Just a coincidence.”

“Bullshit,” Happy interjected as he stepped into the cabin, “And you know damn well it is.” Peter poked his head up from behind his mentor’s chair as the man groaned.

“Do tell!” He chirped.

“Don’t tell.” Tony grumbled.

“Please.” Peter added.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Happy smirked, “A few years ago, Ms. Potts told boss he’s got to shape up and start learning the names of some of the people he has to interact with. So, as any sane, rational person would, he started only hiring airline personnel named Tim.”

“I’m going to replace  _ you _ with someone named Tim” Tony mumbled as Peter snorted. 

“Aw, no, Mr. Stark!” Peter gasped.

“Good.” Happy deadpanned, and made his way to the back of the plane. 

Peter turned around in his seat as he went.

“Wait, you’re sitting back there?” He asked. Happy glanced back at him before sitting down a few rows back.

“I just took an Ambien, kid, I will not be capable of any conversation in the next,” He looked down at his watch, "Fifteen minutes. Good night.” 

“There’s no way that’s good fo-” Peter began, but a smooth voice from the overhead interrupted him.

“Alright, this is your pilot Tim speaking, me and your copilot, Tim, will be flying you today from the lovely Upstate New York to sunny Los Angeles. It is currently 46 degrees out, with a wind-chill that brings it down to 38. There’s some thunderstorms out west, but we should be avoiding them for the most part. Now, this is a longer flight, a whopping 7 hours, so feel free to enjoy the onboard amenities, or just sleep through it.” A loud snore rose up from the back of the plane, and Peter stifled a giggle, “That said, please remain seated for takeoff, and whenever the seatbelt light comes on. Please refer to your screens for the safety briefing.”

Peter slouched in his seat as a little man in an ascot appeared on the holo-screen and began explaining all the details of exits and life vests and parachutes. He hadn’t expected a private jet to have these cheesy videos, but maybe it was a requirement? Not the video, that was obvious, but the cheesiness aspect of it. As if the stupid graphics and bad one liners could distract him from the fact that there was, in fact, a possibility that the plane could crash.

He suddenly felt like he had just walked into a test that he hadn’t studied for. Well, it kinda was. If the unthinkable did happen, he had to know all this stuff. Wait, did he? Surely Mr. Stark knew all this, right? And if worse came to worst, then he could-Unless he couldn’t, because he was- No. Peter shook his head, and the thought away with it. Nothing bad was going to happen. To Mr. Stark, him, Happy, or the plane. His built-in super alarm system had been completely fine all day, It wasn’t Homecoming night, and he wasn’t going to end up like his paren- Nope again. Peter straightened in his seat, and concentrated on watching the ascot man cheerily explain the do’s and don’ts of oxygen mask application. Nothing to worry about.


	2. Epic Based and Gamerpilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a long flight, but Tony isn't gonna let either of them get bored...much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a mild panic attack at the beginning! and this isn't really a spoiler, since I had/have no intention of this happening,(but if you would prefer to stay out of the know, keep scrollin') The plane does not crash. Not even a little bit. This is most certainly a happy ending. I'm a little bitch, I'm not gonna get all heavy on you out of nowhere. 
> 
> Additionally, sorry for not posting on time, I got really behind on my classwork and then I got really sick! I still am! Not COVID, or anything, but I am still miserable. And achy. And stuffy. eugh. Hopefully coming out of it, though!  
> Lastly....Sorry for the formatting...

Despite his own reassurances, he still felt pretty jittery as the man with the ascot said his final lines and phased out, leaving him staring at the back of Tony’s chair. Taking a deep breath, Peter tried to force his body to relax, but the tightness in his chest refused to abate. This flight was going to really suck if he was more wound up than a jack in the box the whole time. 

“Alright, this is your Captain, Tim speaking,” The overhead speakers came back to life, giving the teen a start, “We will begin taxiing to the runway for take-off in just a moment, and we hope you enjoy your flight.” 

Tim’s voice faded out, and a low rumble filled the cabin, the vibrations from the engine’s power traveling through the jet and lodging in Peter’s bones. He grabbed for the armrests, and, upon remembering his tendency to accidentally crush things, clenched his fists in his lap instead. Was he this sensitive to the plane last time? Maybe he was just wound up, but between the noise and shaking, he was in for a nasty headache. 

The plane lurched without warning, and Peter's nails dug into his palm. He flinched at the sudden movement, but with it, a horribly familiar shiver inched its way down his spine. The tightness in his chest turned into a pit swallowing his insides as his senses shot tiny bolts of lightning through his nervous system. 

Oh, God. Something was very, very wrong. Peter glanced out the small, round window as they rolled onto the runway. It stretched off into the distance, the deceptive flatness making the tarmac appear to end in a sudden drop-off. He quickly tore his eyes away from the acrylic porthole and returned to staring straight ahead at his mentor’s seat. He at least didn’t seem to be alarmed. Happy was still snoring. But Peter's senses still fizzled in his head, and from his experience, that didn’t mean anything good.

Should he tell Mr. Stark? Would he stop the plane? Probably not. After all, “Hey, I feel kinda bad” wasn’t a very good reason to land a whole jet. And if he did, and Peter was wrong about whatever might happen, they wouldn’t make the hotel reservation on time, and probably not the first meetings, and Mr. Stark would be pissed, and would he even let Peter go with him on another trip after that? 

He let out a shaky breath. His mentor hating him was still better than being dead. Relationships could be repaired, mistakes could be forgiven, but as Peter knew very well, people couldn’t be brought back. Tentatively, he reached out to tap the seat in front of him, and-

The rumble of the engines turned into a high-pitched whine, and the jet shot forward, pushing Peter into his seat. Paralyzed, he could see the airport and thick trees shooting past them at an impossible speed, turning into a green and grey blur as the plane approached take off. The growing roar of the wheels drowned out every coherent thought. The pit in his stomach froze, sending icy terror shooting through his veins. His senses blared, echoing through his skull. Peter could feel his palms begin to bleed under his nails as the cabin tilted upward and he was pushed further into the leather. Somehow he was convinced this would never end, there was only fear and gravity, stretching into eternity.

A quiet groan ran through the jet, and with it the roaring of the wheels and whining engine abruptly cut out, replaced by a low hum and the faint rushing of wind outside. The jet eased out of the sharp incline, a gentle pressure the only indication it was gaining elevation at all. The screaming of Peter’s senses faded with it, and he took a deep breath as the tension freezing his muscles and holding him captive vanished all at once, leaving him slouched in his seat. _I'm a bowl of jello. A bowl of jello hit by a train,_ he thought as he flexed his shaky hands, _boneless and just very gross overall._ He refrained from thinking about how a bowl of jello hit by a train would also be splattered on everything in a ten-yard radius, depending on the size of the bowl and speed of the locomotive. Or how a person falling from a great height at high speeds would likely end up in a similar state. His palms stung like hell, but the small, rounded cuts would heal up within the hour, at worst. Other than that, he was fine. It was fine.

Maybe take-off was the worst of it. Now that they were in the air, Peter could appreciate how the trees and cars became life-like miniatures as the distance grew. Slowly, he felt the remaining fear melt away. It didn’t even make sense for him to be freaked out, he certainly didn’t have a fear of heights. He went higher than this almost every day, or at least when he patrolled. Granted, it was more the “catastrophic failure” thing that had him worried, but it seemed fine now.

“Having fun?” Tony asked, smirking when Peter jumped.

“Uh, Yeah! It-it’s super cool!” Peter replied, quickly crossing his arms over his hands. With any luck, his mentor wouldn’t notice the attempt to hide the still-oozing cuts on his palms. But, of course, Peter had a very poor relationship with lady luck, and Tony did.

“You okay, Pete? Cold or something?” He asked, squinting at the teen from over his headrest, “I can turn the heat up if you want.”

“No, yeah, I’m good, just a little chilly, spider, spider-stuff, and all,” Peter fumbled out, “I’ll just put my sweatshirt on. Thank you, though!” Tony nodded understandingly.

“Alright. Just figured I’d check on you, I expected a lot more yip-yapping during take-off.” 

“I’m all good. J-just wanted to watch from the window.” Peter assured him. His mentor gave him a thumbs-up and turned back around. 

Well, that was close. Peter grabbed his hoodie, which he really didn’t want to put on right then, and fiddled with the strings. Outside, the tiny buildings and roads had been replaced with a light grey haze as they rose into the cloud cover. Not much left to see. His stomach growled, and he reached for the cast-aside pringles. He had almost forgotten how hungry freaking out made him.

He was down half a can and starting to regret not grabbing a drink when the glowing seatbelt light went out with a neat _ding._ The overhead speakers crackled to life not long after.

“This is your pilot, Tim, speaking, we are currently cruising at an altitude of 41,000 feet. feel free to move about the cabin, do remember that we may experience the occasional bump or wobble, but if the seatbelt signs come back on, please return to your seats and fasten yourself in. We’re about twelve hours out from LA, enjoy your flight!”

Just as the announcement cut out, the chair in front of him turned around, and Peter was once again face-to-face with his mentor. 

“Hey, squirt. Now that we’re no longer bound by Tim's restrictive rules of air travel, we can get down to business.”

“Uh, business?” 

“Yep. We,” He said, reaching under his seat and procuring a sleek leather briefcase, “are going to be reviewing the terms and individual clauses of the new contract.” The man glanced up and cocked an eyebrow at Peter’s confused expression. 

“You didn’t think I’d bring you across the country on a business trip and not force you to learn by doing my work, did you?”

“No,” Peter sighed as Tony unlatched the case, "how long will this take, do you think?”

Tony lifted the lid and pulled out an easily 600-page binder that absolutely did not conform to the spatial limitations of the briefcase it had been in. He then dropped it in Peter’s lap.

“Well, it _probably_ won’t take the whole twelve hours.” 

Peter groaned and took the highlighter his mentor offered him. Now he really wished he’d grabbed a drink.

* * *

It didn’t take twelve hours, but it did take about four, which seemed to pass quicker than four hours spent reviewing an extensive legal document should have. Maybe it was the subject matter or the fact that he was actively working the whole time, or having someone who knew what they were doing help. Because luckily for both of them, Tony turned out to be a great teacher. He went over each section with Peter, guiding him through the legal jargon and the various ins-and-outs of company contracts. Peter listened carefully, highlighting loopholes and possible pitfalls, making sure to leave detailed notes in the margins. Then his mentor would look it over, double-checking everything, and giving little pieces of advice. 

“Nice work, kid. I’m not sure I would have caught that one.” Tony said, adjusting his reading glasses as he read over his protege’s annotations. (Peter had never seen him wear reading glasses, and honestly thought they were hilarious)

"Yeah? It’s not really a big deal or anything, but I thought the wording seemed a little weird,” he replied.

“You’re right on the mark. The wording makes all the difference, and this wording,” Tony tapped the paper, “would have allowed them access to certain Stark Industries royalties, which is absolutely not part of the deal.” 

Peter nodded, but his brow furrowed as he thought of something.

“Mr. Stark, if this is so important, why are you having me look over it? Actually, have you not already? Isn’t this a lawyer thing?” He asked, looking questioningly at his mentor.

“Well, you got me there. I have looked over it, just not extensively. The SI lawyers have certainly had their way with it by now, which means the finalized version is probably already sitting in my inbox.” He shrugged.

“So we did all this,” Peter gestured to the now significantly more yellow binder, “for no reason?”

“Actually, no. I figured once we got to the hotel, we could order some take-out, go over the final version, and check it against yours. See how you did. Maybe you’ll have caught something even they didn’t and we can see about getting it fixed.” Tony grinned. 

“Oh.” Peter said, capping his highlighter, “I was kinda nervous about messing that up, so that’s actually good to know.” 

“I wouldn’t throw you into something you weren’t prepared for, kid.” Tony replied, “Though I probably should have clarified. My bad.”

“It’s fine,” Peter shrugged,” and thanks. I really did learn a lot!” 

“Sure thing, Pete,” His mentor smiled, then took his glasses off, cleaning them on his shirt, and placed them back on the bridge of his nose, “But I hope you brought something else to do for a while because I, unfortunately, have some other, actually unfinished work that the lovely CEO has threatened both my life and limbs over.” 

“Of course, Mr. Stark, good luck with that.” Peter laughed. Tony gave him a thumbs-up and cast a pointed glance at the three empty cans lying in the seat next to the boy.

“Make sure you throw those out, alright?”

“Okay! Can I get some more?”

“Of course you can, kid.”

* * *

When Peter returned from the cabinet, arms laden with a few bags of chips (Doritos, this time) and a bottle of coke, Tony already had his work tablet out, the dimmed overhead lights allowing the holo-display obscuring his face to cast an eerie blue glow on the seats. He’d probably have his head in his work for the next few hours, Peter thought as he sat down, careful not to disturb him in any way. He was a little disappointed not to have anyone to talk to for a while, but he couldn’t expect his mentor to put everything aside just so his intern wouldn’t be bored for a bit. Plus, at least he was sitting with him. 

His phone buzzed in his hand, and Peter grinned as Ned’s Discord username came up. He didn’t think planes usually had service this high up, but that was probably a benefit of being in a high-tech Stark Industries jet. It buzzed again, this time with MJ’s name lighting up the screen. He swiped to reply and opened the Doritos, prompting a single grasping hand to emerge from behind the holo-display in front of him. Peter snorted and dropped a couple of chips into his mentor’s hand, which, treat procured, retreated back into the display. 

* * *

* * *

He chatted with his friends for a while, making sure to explain every function of the chairs and jet, to Ned’s delight. It didn't take long for them to get off-topic, though.

* * *

  


* * *

He was occupied by the silly little murder game for another few hours. Running around as a little red space guy, doing tasks, and not getting killed was surprisingly easy when you have a bit of a sixth sense. That said, Peter absolutely sucked at playing the imposter. Ned and MJ could practically smell when he was lying, so he found himself losing those rounds more often than not. It was interesting that his spidey-sense could apply to things other than physical, real-world threats, though.

The blue victory screen faded in, and Peter did a silent fist-pump. Another win secured. He reached into the bag beside him for a celebratory chip but found only cheesy crumbs and nacho dust. His little red space guy appeared back in the game lobby, so Peter typed a quick AFK message to the chat. Now was a good time to take a break, so he might as well go ahead and toss out his trash. He grabbed his coke and drained what little was left in it.

Time for a refill, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore the timestamps on the Discord, none of them are accurate. I'd say this story takes place more mid-afternoon, shifting into evening near the end of this chapter. Also, I know NOTHING about contracts and corporate legalities. I only know some fun words from Mock Trial and my Criminal Justice course. Just an FYI!  
> Also, making a discord server just for fanfic padding and then trying to fluff it out some seems like a good idea, until you get into it and realize you've been essentially roleplaying by yourself for an hour and a half. Oops.  
> It's a shame the text wouldn't all fit on desktop view, I put legitimate effort into the server itself lmao.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! If you'd like some more mediocre but fluffy work, consider checking out my other fics. You can get updates on chapters, and the occasional bad meme on my instagram, @murdock_schmurdock!
> 
> (if there's any issues or inconsistencies, lemme know and I'll fix it, I haven't done a full proofread yet)

**Author's Note:**

> Also my computer somehow screwed up the resolution when I transferred the art from my phone, so please just ignore how horrible it is k thanx  
> I'm gonna try to have a new chapter out each week, possibly sooner if I manage to finish this quick. Unfortunately between college and my job I have zero time to do anything other than cry and play Among Us, so we'll see.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! If you'd like some more mediocre but fluffy work, consider checking out my other fics. You can get updates on chapters, and the occasional bad meme on my instagram, @murdock_schmurdock!
> 
> (if there's any issues or inconsistencies, lemme know and I'll fix it, I haven't done a full proofread yet)


End file.
